


Negative Degrees

by CalicoPudding



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Aomine Daiki Being an Idiot, Character Study, Cold, Depression, Extended Metaphors, Introspection, Kinda, Metaphors, Teikou Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoPudding/pseuds/CalicoPudding
Summary: It could have been different, it could have worked out, if not for the cold.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like shit, and you all know what that means!!
> 
> VENT FICS

It wasn’t fun anymore.

That’s what the problem was initially.

Now it’s more the fact that it’s no longer warm. It’s icy and unforgiving, unyielding. He’s the best, of course he is, and he lives atop the mountain that others dream of climbing.

He’s not an idiot, he knows he messed up. It was his fault, all of it. What could he have done? There was no way to help. He fought it for so long, fought the frost that was slowly creeping over him. But it got exhausting. It got so exhausting that he stopped fighting. He started listening to that damn persuasive cold and allowed it to swallow him up.

Everything is different.

There is no more fire burning within him during the chase. What good is a hunt if the prey don’t object to being slaughtered? He messed up then, allowing the winter in was the worse mistake he’s made to date.

And it’s starting to _hurt_.

He’s long given up on trying, given up on himself, and a friend who believed in him. The cold took his shadow from him, he’s nothing but moonlight through ice.

How long has it been exactly? How much time has passed since they’ve played together?

Entirely too long, that’s all he knows.

It’s not like playing will help, if anything, it sides with the cold. What good is practice? It doesn’t do shit for him.  But he watches the matches, all of the ones that Satsuki shoves in his face before the game against Seirin.

He’s not an idiot, his mistakes slap him in the face every time he sees Tetsuya offer his fist to a teammate.

And it hurts because that could have, should have, been _him._ So, maybe he’s an idiot in that regard only.

Satsuki tries her best, but it’s no use. He has yet to find anyone he can’t beat. The only who can beat him is himself after all.

* * *

He standing there, on the court, Tetsuya at his feet, below him.

He doesn’t stop the cold from speaking. He lets it mock his old shadow and he doesn’t feel the guilt, not at this time anyways.

While he drifts, he thinks of Teiko, and of the horror on Tetsuya’s face during that game. He thinks of how they _allowed_ Tetsuya’s friend to score points, all so the scores lined up nicely.

Then he’s walking away, leaving Tetsuya on the ground for his teammates.

Satsuki gives him a look, he ignores it.

The cold is settling and he wants nothing more than to go to sleep. But he can’t, not yet. The cold keeps him from looking behind him, but he has a feeling that Tetsuya’s scrapped together a bland look of indifference to reassure his team, to reassure his new light. Tetsuya is a shadow, always has been, but now he’s somebody else’s.

It could have been different, it could have worked out, if not for the cold. But it wasn’t just him, he wasn’t the only one who fell victim to the ice and snow.

Kise succumbed, though he hovers just a breath on the side of thawing. Murasakibara let himself sink into frigid water because it was easier than swimming, and Midorima welcomed the freeze.

He’s not sure about Akashi, his captain has always been below zero. However, when his personality split at the prospect of losing, Akashi had unleashed the blizzard that sealed them all, cemented the cold already growing in their bodies, gave it a proper home. All of them.

Except Tetsuya. Because of course ‘except Tetsuya’.

Satsuki tugs on his arm and he follows easily, too caught up in his own head to care.

He comes to at his front door, Satsuki twisting her copy of the key in the lock. She gives him a little shove through the threshold and sighs.

Except Tetsuya. Except Satsuki.

He really must be an idiot then.

She says something like goodnight before going home. They won, they should be celebrating with their team. But he hasn’t felt happy about winning in some time now, and Satsuki won’t enjoy herself if he’s there moping.

He drags himself through an empty house, falling face first onto his bed. He’s still covered in sweat, the only warmth comes from the burn in his muscles. But that will fade soon, it always does, and it’s not a comforting warmth so it doesn’t matter.

Eventually, the cold pulls him under to sleep. He lets his eyes close and all of his regrets play like an old movie behind his eyelids. They serve to remind him of how he got to this point. He remembers the first time he realized his opponents weren’t fighting back. He remembers the first time he skipped practice. He feels tears slipping down his face as he talks to Tetsuya. That talk, just before the cold claimed him.

The look on Tetsuya’s face.

He wakes up, blinking slowly. His phone is on his nightstand, no call or text notification illuminating the front screen, but it catches his attention anyways.

Tetsuya’s number is still there, still saved. It used to be one of his frequent contacts. He usually just scrolls past it, ignores it.

But he can’t bring himself to delete it, that feels too final.

Before he can stop himself, his phone is in his hand, open, his thumb hovering over Tetsuya’s name. He wants to. What would happen if he just let his thumb drop? Would he get an answer? Would Tetsuya ignore him?

He might, given the day’s match.

The screen glares at him, yelling to make a decision.

The cold whispers, soft and sweet and biting. He listens to it, he’s too tired to do anything else.

His phone ends up free of a battery and on the ground, and he sighs.

He’s starting to get fed up with the cold, but fighting takes too much from him. What’s the point of fighting if it won’t change anything after all?

With a sigh, Aomine Daiki rolls over and falls asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, I gotta work on other stuff, the main stuff, the stuff in the making since forever. Many apologies on that front, but please accept this story about the angsty trash baby. I love Aomine, really, he's a good vent catalyst, and an all around A+ character.


End file.
